The Dress
by PagetPaulson
Summary: It was satin.


**A/N - For Audrey**

 **...**

It was a red satin dress. That was his dilemma for this evening.

It was finally the night of his wife's mother's annual charity ball, this one being held at the MOMA in New York City, and the ambassador's daughter had pulled out all the stops for this event. Her hair was softly curled and her favorite dark red lipstick painting her lips. Of course, the lipstick matched the color of that body hugging dress she wore, and those shiny black fuck me heels were dancing along the floor with every step she took.

Fuck her.

Holding tightly onto his glass, Hotch glared at the beautiful woman from across the room. He knew she had done this on purpose, worn exactly what he wanted to rip off of her, and she sauntered around with her hips swaying as if she didn't know what she was doing.

She knew exactly what he was doing.

Glancing over her shoulder as New York's newest senator continued to gloat about his newest project for the city, Emily grinned at her husband, watching as his eyes roamed the figure she knew she had. The agent, well aware of all the men and women looking at her, gave the older brunette across the room a wink before turning her attention back to the man before her, using the hand that wasn't balancing her clutch and glass of champagne to flip her ebony hair over her shoulder so it cascaded down her back.

"Agent Prentiss?"

The thirty-eight year old looked up and grinned at the older man, letting him take her hand a press a kiss to her knuckles. "Mr. President," she smiled, taking the First Lady into a hug. "How are you?"

Smiling to the woman who had helped him out on many different occasions and had gotten so close to his family, the leader of the country handed her a fresh glass of champagne. "I finally have a day off," the older man laughed. "Your mother invited me for a strictly non-work related night and I'm happy so far."

"Fantastic," Emily laughed. Gesturing for the man who had been eyeing her all night to cross the length of the dance floor, the FBI agent smiled up to the two before her. "Last time we were together, I don't think you met my husband."

"I didn't. You said Mr. Hotchner was on a business vacation with his partner."

The doe eyed woman grinned up to her friends as her husband wrapped his arm around her waist. "He'd rather drink beers with his friends than come to a function with his wife," she almost pouted, "but who could blame him?"

Hotch cautiously took the older man's hand. "Mr. President," he nodded, smiling to the other woman in the group as he shook her hand. "It's great to finally meet you. Emily told me all about your vacation with her family over in Aspen two years ago."

"I'm sorry you missed it," the president nodded. "Emily's a sweetheart but she sure can get a little wild."

Emily blushed, hiding her face in her husband's neck. "Oh my God, stop."

The president gave a laugh, his hand on his dear friend's arm. "I've never seen anyone come close to beating my wife in that dancing game other than my girls."

"And still, I'm the champion."

Emily forced her jaw not to drop as her husband pressed a wet kiss just underneath her ear, and she smiled up to the two she had known for years. "I will beat you one day," the ambassador's daughter chuckled, feeling Hotch's fingers grasp and pull the material of her dress at her back. "We're going to Thailand in three months," she nodded, challenging the older woman with a grin. "Rematch."

The First Lady laughed and high fived her friend. "It's on."

"If you both will excuse us," the BAU Unit Chief chimed in, shaking hands with both before him, "but I haven't gotten the chance to dance with my wife yet this evening."

Emily gave one last smile to their country's leader before letting her husband sweep her away, her body immediately being pulled hard against the older man's chest. "You just excused the president," she breathed, her dark eyes staring up into his.

Hotch grinned evilly down to his beautiful wife. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," she grinned, letting his hand on her back slip down to the top curve of her ass. "So I take it you like my dress."

The older man let his eyes darken. "Do you not remember the limo ride here?" He was so close to jacking himself off on the leather seats just by rubbing up against her in that dress, and the moment he knew they were both on the edge, the door opened to signal that they had arrived.

Emily grinned, her teeth gnawing into her bottom lip. "How could I forget?"

"You know," he whispered, separating their bodies and gently taking her hand so he could lead her across the crowded dance floor, "I saw where they were putting all of their coats."

The brunette woman felt her hair brushing her naked skin as her husband led her through the exhibits.

"Maybe we can have a little challenge of our own."

Emily felt a quiet laughter bubble up in her chest as he dragged her to the elegant sitting room surrounded by thousands of coats and shawls. Quickly glancing around, the ambassador's daughter let her husband wrap an arm around her waist and tug, missing the amused glances of her friends from across the room.


End file.
